Gorgeous Contradiction
by Nakimochiku
Summary: Matthew doesn't tell him that there's a lot of things he doesn't tell him. America x Canada, oneshot, enjoy.


Gorgeous Contradiction

1.

"Sometimes..." Alfred says as he pauses from working on his 1960 Harley-Davidson, greasy fingers wrapping around the lemonade that Matthew offers him but not drinking it, staring out at the great blue skies with eyes that dreamt while the whole world was sleeping. "Sometimes I wish I was an eagle. I'd fly up so high."

Matthew doesn't tell him that he would make a most handsome eagle, dark brown feathers and sharp beautiful eyes, soaring far above him and, as always, leaving him behind.

2.

"Talk to me, Mattie. Lemme hear you." Alfred doesn't wait for him to answer. He never does. He crushes their lips together with a ferocious desperation, and Matthew wishes he were being eaten alive. He wishes Alfred would just hurry and swallow him whole, eat up every piece of him until there's no evidence of his existence.

Matthew doesn't tell him that he would sing down the moon for him, spin tales out of spider webs for him, whisper lovingly in his ear if he asks and waits long enough to hear him.

3.

"Justice." Alfred answers before he could ask, eyes set and hard and furious, jaw clenched. Matthew nods weakly and pulls Alfred in close because Alfred won't cry yet. Not until the others are gone and he feels terribly alone with the ghosts that are always right beside him. Then it's Matthew's turn to be the hero. "I did it for justice, freedom...You...understand don't you? It's right, isn't it?"

Matthew doesn't tell him that if he has to question someone else about how right he was, he shouldn't have done anything in the first place, but keeps his mouth shut and comforts the way he always has.

4.

"You make me think of peaches, Mattie." Alfred says brightly, stuffing his face full of peach pie, and Matthew wonders if that means Alfred's going to eat him as easily and insignificantly as a peach, spitting out the pit and patting his belly in the same satisfaction he is now. "You're all cute and fuzzy and sweet." He pulls Matthew close, ghosting kisses over his face with the sincerity of a child. "You smell good in the sunshine, and I want to eat you up."

Matthew doesn't tell him that he would gladly let Alfred swallow him whole, that he waits eagerly for it.

5.

"If I were a great big whale, I would try to drink the ocean." Alfred laughs at what he knows is stupidity, or naivety, or pure innocence, laying comfortably on his back in the long strands of grass, staring at the wide open sky and imagining it was the water, swirling and shifting like the gold of his hair in the breeze. "And I would antagonize Artie, just like Moby-dick. Didn't like Moby Dick though, cause whales are nice."

Matthew doesn't tell him that he's terrified of whales, of their sheer mass and power, and watches Alfred from behind his book and smiles.

6.

"You know I can see all of the Alberta skies in your eyes?" Alfred whispers gently against his skin, fingers touching and mouth kissing and tongue tasting, all of it making Matthew squirm in discomfort and pleasure. "It's the purple of Alberta in the evening just before the sun fully sets, out on the fields, and your hair is the wheat, swaying and gold." Alfred kisses him firmly. A breeze ruffles the sheer curtains.

Matthew doesn't tell him that if he kisses Alfred long enough, he can taste the desert and the ocean and the french quarter of Louisiana.

7.

"I'm afraid to hold you too tight." Alfred murmurs as though confiding a great secret, eyes wide and bright in the darkness. His arms are wrapped loosely around Matthew's waist, his head resting on Matthew's chest, their legs tangling. The moonlight shines through the gaps in the curtains and highlights the flat plane of Alfred's back, glistening with drying sweat. "I'm afraid that if I squeeze too hard, you'll break. You look so fragile."

Matthew doesn't tell him that he's not fragile. That he can take it. He take the pain.

8.

"The world is our oyster, Mattie. You ever heard that one before?" Alfred stretches out in the little rowboat like a great satisfied lion, having just devoured the lunch of hamburgers and soda and cake that Matthew had packed for them, licking his lips for any icing that remained. Matthew doesn't answer, and Alfred doesn't wait for him to, laughing so loudly he nearly rocks the boat and the water laps at the sides as though laughing with him. "The whole wide world is our oyster. The universe too. So I'll take you anywhere you want to go, okay? You just gotta ask."

Matthew doesn't tell him that he'll never ask. But he thinks that Alfred knows.

9.

"I want all of you. Every little bit. I want you to give yourself to me." Alfred says casually over breakfast, fixing Matthew with a serious look, pausing in eating his Honey Nut Cheerios. Matthew doesn't answer, setting a plate of bacon and home fried potatoes before him because Alfred likes big breakfasts, and likes his cooking more than that. "Am I making any sense?" He laughs at himself and Matthew smiles wryly in return.

Matthew doesn't tell him that giving himself to Alfred is the one thing he finds more difficult than anything Alfred has asked of him before.

10.

"Dance with me, Mattie!" Alfred grabs his hand, pulling him out into the rain, spinning them around and around and around in circles, laughing so loudly that the thunder is like a mouse compared to him, the lightening is little but a firefly. He lifts Matthew in his arms, keeps spinning with him, his gaze so adoring and so faintly innocent that Matthew finds it easy to ignore the shadows in the perfect blue of his eyes. Finds it easier still to ignore that he's been there. Those shadows have touched him. Alfred pauses, kissing him as he sets him on his feet. "I love dancing in the rain!"

Matthew doesn't tell him that he thinks Alfred looks beautiful, rain drops trailing down his face, wetting his hair, rolling over the perfect pink of his smiling mouth.

11.

"You know penguins mate for life?" Alfred isn't smiling, pulling Matthew down beside him on the sofa, pushing him into the cushions. The way he grips him would be painful, but Matthew can take it. He doesn't kiss him gently, and Matthew doesn't mind, reflecting Alfred's lust, pulling him closer, wrapping his slim legs around Alfred's waist. "We aren't penguins...But..." Alfred's unsure now, loosens his grip as he becomes aware that he had been holding too tight. "I want you for life anyway."

Matthew doesn't tell him that a life time with Alfred is like a life time in a hurricane and tornado and tempest, all at once.

12.

"Tell me you love me, Mattie." Alfred's eyes are searching, roving over his face for answers. He waits for him to respond, searches for approval. Then laughs. "I don't know why I expected anything different." He lets Matthew go, slumping back against the wall, still weak with sardonic laughter. Outside, the sky darkness and the birds stop singing, as though the whole world hates to see Alfred cry. And he is crying. And Matthew's the cause. There's a special place in hell for him, for breaking the world's dreamer. "You never tell me that. You never say it." Matthew smiles, kisses Alfred with all the passion he can manage, before going outside to take in the laundry before the rain can get it.

Matthew doesn't tell him that there's a lot of things he doesn't tell him.


End file.
